Summary:

You offer me flight from here, but for what purpose? All you have given me are the aimless wings of indecision.

Notes:

So I had to split this chapter into two, because it ended up being almost 5k words. Fear not, though. Things are surely picking up.

There was some creaking of ancient hinges tailed by the mixed, clumsy chimes of clinking metal and the mourning of more doors.

She heard the clip of formal boots stop next to her head.

"Zelda?"

Even in the stubborn grip of a miserable night's sleep her heart leapt. It leapt to a voice so familiar she believed she could have heard it in a time before she had even been.

The seal on her eyes broke as she turned to blink up at the figure kneeling over her. In wake of the sinkhole that had opened up in her chest at the sight of him she found herself smiling anyway. They may have different faces in this life, but it was still undeniably him. And she was so glad that at least that was a constant. For if he had ceased to be . . . what was she? What was the purpose of her rebirth without the other promised half?

He had such an odd look on his face as he surveyed her laid out on the cell floor before him. So curious. She wished she could tell him how handsome he was, but she knew it wouldn't be well received. The sharp, graceful angles of his face were, indeed, princely. His hair was short now too and a brighter blond than in the past.

"Come on, get up. You've spent enough time on the floor," he sighed quietly.

The world danced and bent before her eyes as she rose, and she put a hand to the side of her head squeezing her eyelids shut. Too much tipping already.

By the time she opened her eyes again she saw him retracting his hand and flicking his eyes away.

"I brought you this." He handed her a cloth, pitcher, and bowl. As she accepted it he proffered her a stack of linen; clothes of simple cotton. "Like I said, you've spent too much time in the dirt."

Not a memory of the two of them in his recollection, and yet here he was when he didn't have to be. She could accept a rebirth like this, could accept that not every phoenix rises the same.

"Why didn't you send someone else to do this? Why not a servant?" she wondered aloud.

His eyes narrowed and the line of his mouth hardened. "Well . . . it's a delicate matter, wouldn't you agree? There are many who oppose my decision. And I must admit . . . I feel some guilt for having kept you here so long. "

One solid thump landed in her chest before she inhaled. "And your decision...?"

He pinched a lock of hair at the base of his skull, eyes cast away.

"You are free."

Free. And separate. And then do I really know what free means after all? She found his blues, luminant in the dim light of prison. That's where she'd still be. That's where she'd been the moment she kissed him and had met harsh stone instead of the soft purchase of a lover's breath. You offer me flight from here, but for what purpose? All you have given me are the aimless wings of indecision.

"So… Do you think me mad or do you believe me?"

"I-" The corners of his eyes pinched. "It's wrong to keep you here. Besides, I can forgive you for a kiss." He stood and strode to the door, "Knock when you're done."

Flipping through the various articles he'd gifted her, she accounted for assorted undergarments, a plain cotton dress, a blue waist wrap, and an accompanying brown vest. But there was one more addition to the bundle: a cloak. Though it was of common hylian design, she could feel it was comprised of a high craft… Cautiously, she brought it to her nose and sniffed. Sure enough it already carried a distinct fragrance to it: the fresh breeze of Hyrule Field and teakwood.

That. Was not possible.

There was no way.

She peered into the inside of the hood and found . . . a golden hair just his shade. She breathed in deeper, burying her face in the fabric, leaking tears uncontrollably, living a different moment.

How could he? How could he carry the same scent through death? Why did he give her this?

She couldn't stop crying, not as she washed, not she dressed, not as she wrapped that hallowed cloth closely around her, not as she knocked and watched the door swing open to the axis of her thoughts.

He froze as he registered the droplets trekking her cheeks, disconcertment tightening his regal features.

"Why are you crying?"

"How did I ever forget how confusing you can be?"

His eyebrows rose and his soft scoff came in disbelief. "Yes, I am the confusing one."

"Why did you give me this?" She pointed to the cloak.

He bit his lip against the shift in his features peaking through the cracks of stone. "This is goodbye, is it not? I figure this," he gestured between us, "is not something people really forget. And I know you won't, so…" He frowned. "I don't need it anyway."

Her breath left her when he reached past her head to pull her hood up. "You look very different without dirt on your face," he mused. "I didn't realize you had freckles."

He was making it inordinately difficult to tone down how great a besotted fool she was.

Glancing down the hall, he suggested, "It's best I take you to the gate now. But please." he looked her in the eyes, "Keep your head down. I wasn't humoring you when I said there are those who find my actions affronting."

"Why?"

"They think it's fitting you be punished. You see I'm…" Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the brooding pinch of his brow. "Come on. Let's take you from this place."

I don't want to leave.

Yet they walked through stone brick halls so similar to the ones she used to live in an eon ago. She could hear whispers follow them like eyes.

"That girl…"

"Lunatic after all…"

"He's been disgraced…"

"Wonder if this changes things…"

Too soon they passed through the thick wooden doors of a side entrance and navigated the smiling, sunny gardens toward the portcullis. The silence around them was full to bursting with nothing.

And what could be said? This was goodbye.

He stopped her at the end of the bridge outside the castle. He'd been so kind to take her at all. Why did he take her?

Turning to him she couldn't help but say, "I didn't deserve this."

"This isn't about deserving," he breathed. "This was an attempt to amend my having put you in a dungeon for three days when . . . well, maybe it is about deserving. Because you didn't deserve that."

But why? If I'm not guilty, then why?

"Link." He stiffened when she brushed her knuckles across his cheek to meet his eyes. "It's okay if you don't remember me. You can't help that."

He grabbed her hand, folding her fingers and giving it back to her.

"You'll try not to kiss any more strangers, won't you?"

"I couldn't see myself kissing anyone else," she smiled.

He certainly didn't smile, but he didn't frown and in that moment it meant just as much as the upturn of his lips would have. She stared openly at his face, trying to commit every detail to memory, but she noticed he was looking too, and she couldn't understand it.

"I don't really want to say goodbye, Link," she admitted.

He nodded, but his eyes tensed in a peculiar way, and she could've sworn she saw his throat bob. "Then don't."

So, she didn't. She reached to meet his hand and squeezed it gently. In fact, she intertwined their fingers and turned around. She tightened her hold one more time before she let go with her first step. Truthfully, the way their fingers had dragged apart was knee-weakeningly painful.

But her steps only faltered slightly.

The ends of foxtails swayed in the grass before Zelda as she padded forward. The basket she carried shifted on her arm every so often, and her hair wisped around her as the cool wind sighed at her neck. She stopped walking and the foxtails still swayed and her basket still shifted and her hair still wisped around her cheeks. She walked and she stopped. And then she stepped and halted and it was still the same. The only variable was her presence for if she weren't there no basket would tilt and no hair would contort so fluidly in the wild's breath. She could recall the fresh, omnipresent peace that these verdant fields used to lend her, the still suspension of nearly silent billowing green. But now the green seemed to be shaded with so much more grey, and the wind was cold. Her eyes used to keenly pick out the herbal specimens she desired, but now she often forgot what she was doing there in the first place. Not even slanted beams of golden sun held the same light to her. All they did was remind her of other golden strands, considerably finer yet no more concrete to her access.

Yes, many things were not the same and neither was she and so what?

Why any of this? Why walk the fields and forest for herbs and solitude? What was she going towards?

Zelda was always cold these days. She'd burned herself twice not realizing how close she'd put her hands to the heat of her hearth. That hearth was the closest thing she had to company. Sometimes, when it was very late and her eyes were heavy with remnants of the past, she could almost fool herself into thinking the fire was alive, could almost believe the flames flitted to form his face.

There were nights where caught herself whispering, "Are you happy?" She thought she could tolerate this isolation easier knowing that was true. But she didn't.

In the life before, Zelda had found herself often longing for the quiet, simple life of a cottage at the edge of the woods. The goddesses gave her that for at least a little while, and then took it away when they made it too quiet and exceptionally complex if not only for the knowledge left on her shoulders. But she wanted that knowledge, and she wanted him, wanted to want him.

She might have fled to the company of a small settlement, but placed on the outskirts of Hyrule Field, she couldn't bring herself to move farther away from him. Additionally, she had little money to leave her life here and take up a rent in Castle Town. Her parents had passed away by different turns of illness, but her mother had lived long enough to set Zelda on the feet of an herbal merchant's journey.

The fields were sparse as of late so Zelda stopped by the house before setting down the lightly shaded trail between the trees. Her current project was to stock up on her more valuable plants. As of now she was searching for a rare, endangered species: the silent princess. However, as she took the path leading to a certain secluded grotto, her feet cemented to the ground as she passed a clearing on the way.

There was someone laying in the dirt.

Taking a few steps closer she almost tripped in surprise.

On the ground in front of her was a very shirtless, very real, and very familiar blond man.

She dropped her basket.

He startled, sitting up and spinning toward her.

Two slack-jawed mirrors faced each other in that soft space lit by the beginnings of dusk's vibrant extremities. Eventually, the chirping of critters faded when he broke first.

"Did you follow me here?"

She ignored that, countering, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here," she exasperated. Her breath was coming in much too frequently for a casual stroll through the woods. "Why are you half naked?"

His face flamed in a way that certainly should not have left as gratifying an impression as it did. It was very hard not to kiss him when his face was so pinkened.

She didn't recall stepping forward, but he moved to stand as she neared. "I was . . . practicing." She spotted a sword discarded between some tufts of grass as well as a worn satchel.

"Do you . . . come here often?" she pondered.

"I . . ." His eyes were bewildered. "Yes. I do."

She laughed, tears budding. "You really aren't that different. It explains the smell."

"Wh-" His face reddened again and he lifted an arm and sniffed. "I don't - I don't smell that bad do I?"

She tried to stop the giggles bubbling up her throat at his confusion, but only did so noncommittally. "No, love, I meant your cloak." He stalled as the name left her lips. She coughed and went on, "You smell the same, did you know? As you did before."

"How so?"

"Like the wind of plains and earthy scent of trees."

"Yes, well, I don't always smell that way living in a castle."

"I suppose not." She hadn't smiled like this in a long, long time. "And why leave the castle to frequent the forest at all?"

His breath left his chest as he craned his neck upwards, gazing at the peaks of pines and crests of deciduous sentinels.

"Out here in the wild . . . I don't have to wear a crown. I can climb until my legs give out, I can roam Hyrule Field with the easy company of my horse." With a breathy laugh he mentioned, "And I can beat the living hell out of whatever I want. Helps me not lose my mind sometimes."

"Lose your mind over what?"

Head turned to the dirt now, Zelda could see his posture had tightened, like the tensing of his shoulders could keep in line whatever wobbling tower was on top. She was, sadly, closely acquainted with the disposition.

"I'd rather not-" He plopped back down in the dirt, shoving a hand into his bangs. "There's- It's complicated."

Evaluating the approaching twilight, she picked up her basket and lilted, "I'll leave your lips their liberty; you can stay silent, but I will always listen to you, love." Holding a hand out to him, she suggested, "Why don't we get you cleaned up? I'm sure you'll have to head back soon. My cottage is close by."

Her skin burned as he accepted her offer, and she cherished the calluses of his palm and fingers pressed to her own. Standing once again, he sought, "Are you sure?"

She shook her head, soundlessly laughing. "Are you really asking that to me of all people?"

That actually got his mouth to quirk in amusement as he turned to retrieve his belongings and returned to walk beside her. "You know, I've rarely let a woman see me in such a disheveled state, and yet for some reason your company doesn't urge me to be more presentable."

"Oh please, I've seen you at your worst."

Wincing, he inquired, "Do I want to know?"

Zelda's knuckles were white. "Well . . . I've held your almost lifeless body."

He stopped.

"Excuse me?"

She felt an ancient sadness settle into her bones as she recollected that day of fabled apocalypse. "We've always been destined, Link. We've always been bound by strings of fate. You gave your life to protect me. Almost, that is. Fate wasn't done with you yet."

"Why so?"

"You still had a demon to defeat."

It was then that his face went oddly pale and he stopped talking all together. She missed the soft timbre of his voice. The polished accent he had now was similar to the one she used to hold. Even remembering everything she did, her dialect still modeled the sharper tones most peasants talked in. That was the thing though… Even with everything she remembered, there was . . . dark spots. Things she knew she definitely, definitely should have remembered were . . . beyond her reach. Like their children, as horrible as it was. Thinking about the few scattered pieces she had of them was like holding sand. They stayed only fleetingly. Another curse or a blessing? Would remembering them now and living without them drive her mad? Either way, she knew they had been happy; and that was the most important thing, really.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You, us, our kids."

He tripped on a rock, neck turning red. "Kids?"

"You married the crown princess of Hyrule. Of course we had kids," she laughed.

His eyes were wide as he intoned, "You were a princess?" Her own eyes sparkling, she hummed an affirmative. There was something about that revelation that stalled him for longer than she would have expected, but eventually the corners of his mouth turned down. He sighed and continued on.

Notes:

Bro, y'all are not ready for chapter four.